Japhur slung a golden bag of bags over his shoulder and marched over to the local Street-Fighting Facilitator, a wise man who was smoking lavender oil.
"Oh, a very good afternoon to you," said Japhur politely.
The wise man looked up briefly from his pipe to see who had spoken and then resumed his smoking.
"I should like to become a Street Fighter, sir, if I may."
The wise man looked up at Japhur again. This time he put down his pipe.
"You must pass the seven tests before we can consider your application."
"What are these seven tests? Come on, answer, answer!" cried Japhur.
"First you must take this home with you and eat it."
Japhur took the item being offered. What could it be? What did it mean?
He got home and unwrapped the food which the old man had given him. It was a baked-bean pizza. He ate it and then went to bed. The pizza made him sweat so much that he rotted through the sheets and his bed fell to pieces. Thanks to that pizza all that was left of his bed was a few bits of burnt rubber and melted sheets.
In the morning Japhur looked out of his window. He could see the old man sitting on the pavement and smoking his lavender pipe. Japhur was about to yell something nasty when a great corn storm was whipped up and the old man was reduced to a sand wind and blew away.